Maybe It's Magic
by vanesslala
Summary: 3 years after her parents' deaths in the war, Emma Darrow still struggles to cope with their loss. That is until she meets Harry Potter. Can they find hope in each other, in an otherwise hopeless aftermath?


A lot can happen in a year, they say. It must be true, as it's been three years since that day and much has changed. Things are mostly back to normal now, apart from the missing people. Death may be one of the strangest things to experience from an outside perspective. To see someone almost every day and then without a moments notice they're gone and you don't ever see them again but for in your dreams, and maybe in old photos. Always close, but eternally unattainable. I try to remind myself that many people are gone, not just mine. It seems to make it easier, knowing that it's not just me going through this endless grief and the overwhelming sense of emptiness. Every day is not bad, however. There are days of clarity, where you realize for what seems like the thousandth first time that what has happened, has happened and all you can really do is move on from it. You could call it hope. Hope that there is a future without sadness. Hope that you have a true purpose - that there is a reason you survived and they did not.

My people were my parents. As Aurors, I never imagined that they would fall in battle. There were always superheroes in my eyes - invincible. I should have known there was always a chance that things could change in an instant. It was, after all, a risk they took every day that they went to work. They didn't let me fight, and I was angry at them for it. Angry that I wouldn't be allowed to defend my own life, my own world, my own friends, and family. They made my battle solely their own, and in the end was it truly worth it? I'd like to ask them that. Why shield me from mortal danger to protect any chance I had at a future if they weren't going to be there to see it anyway? I'd rather have fought beside them, whether or not I stood a chance in hell. At least if we had died together doing what we believed in, fighting for what was right, there wouldn't be a single one of us standing here now questioning it all, writhing in turmoil in the late hours of the night.

The pale pink light of daybreak crept through my curtains. Another sleepless night. I felt as though this would be my life from now on. No sleep, constant guilt. It was just the norm now. Not that I should be complaining - after all, I'm not the only one, like I try to keep reminding myself. The crying has stopped, at least. I suspect my tear ducts have dried up, shriveled and useless now. Instead, my mind torments me. A fair trade, I suppose. Mustering all of the strength I can gather in my seemingly lifeless body, I throw the covers back and hoist myself out of bed. My alarm will not go off for another few hours, but there's no use lying in bed any longer.

Jezebel is curled up on the sofa outside of my bedroom. The large brown tabby belongs to my flatmate and hates me with her entire being. She glares at me as she spots me in the doorway, pinning her ears back.

"Good morning to you too," I whisper as I creep past her and into the kitchen.

I flick my wand towards the coffee maker and it automatically starts to brew. 7 1/2 inches, Rosewood, Griffin feather core, reasonably pliable. I remember the day I purchased it - the day they purchased it. They were honestly more excited over the whole ordeal than I was. I thought it was all rather embarrassing. Funny, the moments you take for granted. I would give anything now, to go back in time or even revisit those moments. My wand is with me all of the time now. Before the war, it was only as necessary. I haven't decided if, now, it's the sense of safety it brings me if it's the connection it holds to them or both.

"No sleep again, eh?"

I jump at the sound of her voice, instinctively gripping my wand tighter. "Save Merlin, Vi. You can't do that!" I groan. She only chuckles in response.

Viola Shacklebolt, daughter of the Minister of Magic himself. How did I get stuck with her, you ask? I can thank my parents for that one, I guess. They made Kingsley promise, before. Promise that he would look after me if anything happened to them. Vi and I had been best friends for as long as I could remember. Our parents had been close friends, having worked together for years. We spent a lot of time with the Shacklebolts, holidays even. Vi had always been there for me, I'd give her that. But boy, did she drive me mad!

She waltzed over to the counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee as she spoke to me."You ought to see someone 'bout that, ya know. Before you 'ear it from Dad."

I rolled my eyes, hip-bumping her to shove her out of the way of the coffee, "It's fine. I get to sleep."

When she didn't respond, I turned to find her glaring at me in an enough-with-the-bullshit kind of way. "Some nights, anyway" I mumbled. She scoffed at me.

We stood silently in the kitchen for a while afterward, leaning up against the counter side by side and sipping our coffee. Viola had been lucky enough not to lose any family in the war but had lost plenty of friends who fought at Hogwarts on that last day. Generally speaking, she never really shut up. So, when she had these quiet moments I knew not to question them or intervene. It was her way of dealing with it all. A tap at the window broke our shared silence. It was Bixby, my trusty little Tawny owl, delivering the Daily Prophet. It was rare for me to go out these days, besides to go to work or visit with Vi's family. I relied on the paper to keep me informed of the goings-on of the wizarding world. I took the paper from the owl's talons and sat at our dining table. I began tabbing through the pages, seeing nothing of importance or interest. Viola read from over my shoulder.

"They broke it off, ya know," she said from behind when I reached the Sports page.

"Who?" I asked, confused.

She pointed to the bottom left corner, to a photo of a red-headed Quidditch player zooming past the frame.

"Potter and the Weasley's daughter. Heard Mum an' Dad talking about it. Something about their careers getting in the way."

I closed the paper, shrugging off her comment. "I should be getting ready now."

* * *

"Oi, hurry up in there or I'm leaving without ya again!"

I was in no hurry to get to my job at the Ministry. Kingsley had made me take the position - his assistant of no importance. It was mostly paperwork and trailing behind him all day long. I sat in on meetings, using an enchanted Quill to take notes for him. I traveled with him to meet with people, of whom I had no interest. Some would say it was a brilliant job. I might even say that if I was ever to be in a different state of mind. After the war, I tried to avoid the Ministry like the plague. It made me think of them too much. Kingsley said it wasn't healthy for me, and that I needed to face it. Vi ended up working there too, under Hermione Granger herself, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. With a deep sigh, I slung my bag over my shoulder and met Vi outside the flat. She had her hand on her hip as she tapped her foot on the ground impatiently.

"Alright, alright!" I groaned.

"Come on, then," she said as I flicked my wand to lock the door.

I grabbed her lightly by the arm.

"Ready?" she asked.

I nodded.

Apparition is something you never really get used to. The best way to describe it is your body coming completely apart, but after you blink it's back together again. It gives me chills every time.

We land abruptly outside the public loo. Seemingly normal people dressed in business suits and dress skirts file in through the door one at a time. "They really need to find a more sanitary way for us to get to work," I say, shaking my head at the spectacle before us.

"Until then.." Vi says, holding her elbow out to me. I smile lazily and latch on with mine before we make our way inside.

* * *

"Good morning, Emma!"

"Mr. Shacklebolt." I nod.

Kingsley wraps an arm around my shoulders. "I thought we talked about you calling me that," he says quietly.

"Oh, I think you said something about it making you feel old. I can't recall."

"And I suppose you're just going to ignore that?"

"Ignore what?" I say, completely serious.

He releases his grip on me and laughs.

"How's Vi? You know she never even comes to see her own father."

"I think it's the dress that keeps her away, Minister."

Kingsley takes a moment to take in his outfit. He's wearing the usual royal blue robes that look too big for him and trail the floor behind him when he walks.

He makes a very serious face and crosses his arms across his chest, "Ain't no dress."

After a moment we both break and burst into laughter. "Alright, so what torture do you have in store for me today?" I ask.

"Ah, let us have a look shall we?" He reaches for a roll of parchment on his desk and hands it to me. As his assistant, I have the very noble job of keeping track of the Minister's day-to-day schedule.

"First thing," I start. He regards me carefully and I smile again.

"Oh, you are to meet with Headmistress McGonagall to discuss changes in academia at Hogwarts."

"Right," he nods, "next?"

"Seems someone has penciled you in for an interview with Rita Skeeter for the Daily Prophet."

Kingsley frowns from his side of the desk. "Was that you?"

"Moving on!" I exclaim, trying to hide my smirk.

"Afterwards, you are to make an appearance on Level 6, for the Apparition testing."

"Is that today?"

"Next will be Level 3 to meet with the Department Head."

"Always interesting. Next?"

"Lastly, we are on Level 2 to meet with the Aurors over the recent incarceration of several Death Eaters."

Kingsley claps his hands together almost excitedly. "Well then, let's get started, my dear!"

I roll my eyes at him. Quickly, I grab the usual parchment and Quick-Quotes Quill from the side table to take notes throughout the day, then follow him out of his office.

* * *

We are in the elevator, after meeting with Head of the Department of Magical Accidents & Catastrophes. Every time someone new steps in they fawn over Kingsley like he's some kind of celebrity. Maybe it's just because I've known him so personally all of these years, but Merlin's beard is it sickening.

I speak very rarely while at work, unless being spoken too. I am nothing like the Minister, who makes small talk whenever possible. That must be why so many people like him - he cares. After what seems like ages, we reach Level 2. I follow Kingsley to the meeting room, as Ministry official after Ministry official greet him. They don't usually acknowledge me unless with a turn in my direction and a smile. Usually, I return it.

"Minister!" Rodney Smith, a stubby man with bleach blond hair makes his way towards us through the small crowd.

"Smith, what can I do for you?" Kingsley replies, clapping the young man on the back.

"Minister, here are the files you asked for. Apologies for the wait!" he snivels.

"Ah, not to worry." Kingsley takes the files from Rodney and turns to me. I frown.

"Now, just leave the Quill with me and take these down to Vi, would you?"Silently, I take the papers from him, hugging them to my chest. Kingsley nods, turning my body around to face the direction of the elevator himself.

"Meet me back here when you've finished," he says.

I make my way back towards the elevator, through the crowd of Aurors and hoity-toity lawyers. Usually, I'm very good about not peeking at files I shouldn't - which is all of them. But, since these are for Vi's department, I figure she'll end up telling me anyway. I tab through, trying to get a glance at the headers on the pages, not paying attention to where I'm walking.

He hits me like a Bludger, hard and out of nowhere. The files I'm carrying scatter around me, onto the floor, as I fall back onto the ground.

"I'm so sorry!" I hear him say, his hands gently trying to grab my arms to lift me up off of the ground. I push them away, holding my hand to my head in pain.

"It's fine, I'm fine," I say, stubbornly.

Quickly, I move to start picking up the scattered files and he does the same. It's only when I look up to say thank you that I realize who it is.

My mouth goes dry. "Oh, uh... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! Thank...er...thank you for that."

"Please, it was my fault," says Harry Potter apologetically as he hands me a small stack of papers.

I take them from him after grabbing the last few off the floor, and we both hoist ourselves to our feet. I am awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact, but he is looking directly at me and it makes me uncomfortable.

"Uhm, I'm Harry by the way. I don't believe we've met." He shoves his hand out in my direction.

For a second I stare at it, confused, but reach out to him once I've collected myself. His hand is rough, worn by his experiences. By death.

 _He's died before,_ I think.

My hand recoils from his, without me realizing it at first. "Sorry... Emma. I'm Emma. It's nice to meet you."

"Ah, Harry!" I hear from behind me. An arm sneaks up over my shoulders.

"Minister," greets Harry, reaching out to shake Kingsley's hand.

"This is Emma Darrow, my assistant," he says proudly.

Harry looks at me again, "Darrow? As in..."

"The very same" Kingsley nods.

"Emma I'm..." He returns his attention to me, this time I'm looking back. I almost get lost in his bright green eyes, like emeralds.

I cut him off, knowing he was having trouble finding the words. "It's okay."

Harry nods. "It was an honor to have known them."

 _It's all too much..._ I think. The emotion beings to take over and I can feel the panic rising in me."I have to get these to Viola," I blurt out, pushing past him to the elevator.

 _"Don't take it personally, son."_ I can hear Kingsley say behind me.

* * *

"You what?!"

I had just finished telling Vi about my embarrassing encounter with our Lord and Saviour, Harry Potter.

She bursts into laughter.

"Yeah, thanks for the sensitivity," I say to her.

"Oh, come off it now. I've known Harry for a few years and believe it or not he may be more socially disabled than you are."

"Well, maybe it wouldn't have been so bad had it not happened in front of the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Literally.

"Didn't realize you, of all people, would be star struck over him..." she says, smiling. "Or... is it more?"

"What are you on about now?" I groan.

"Could it be, Miss Emma Darrow has a crush?!" she teases.

I roll my eyes at her, "Oh shut it, Vi. I don't even know the guy."

"You practically do, his life has only been exploited in the Daily Prophet for the last decade or so. He is rather fit, you have to admit it." She elbows me playfully in the side.

"Alright, enough of you. I've got to run back to your Dad before he comes up with more for me to do."

"Whatever you say, Em. I guess I'll see you later."

Viola sashays off, and I head the opposite direction towards the elevator.

* * *

Kingsley has returned to his office on the first floor, as I had expected. He sits behind his desk, like a king on his throne, carefully reading something in front of him. I quietly shut the door behind me. His attention moves from his reading to me, as I enter the room. "Ah, Miss Emma," he smiles at me. "Sit, please." I do as he asks and sits in the chair across from him.

"How are you, my dear?" he asks me carefully, as though I might break.

"Uh, brilliant," I answer, confused at his prying.

"Are you? I imagine that's the first you've heard of your parents in quite some time now."

 _Oh._ I think. _That._

"It's difficult, but I'm not going to shatter into a million pieces any time someone mentions them, Kingsley." _Even though I almost did._

He gives me half a smile, and I can tell he's concerned about me still. My answer wasn't satisfactory enough for him.

"You've been doing well. I just want you to know I'm always here for you if you need me." Gently, he reaches over and places a hand on top of mine, giving a quick squeeze. I bite back the scream in the back of my throat. I know that I can tell him anything, but for whatever reason, he's not the one I want to tell.

"I know," I squeak.

* * *

The end of the day finally comes and I welcome it with open arms. I go home alone, after hearing from Vi that she has to stay a bit later. My body is exhausted from the rollercoaster of emotions it has gone through on this day. I collapse onto my bed and slowly give in to sleep.

"Oi! Wake up!"

I am awakened by a pillow to the face. Viola stands over me, a scary grin spread across her face.

"What in the bloody hell, Vi!"

She's in my closet now, throwing pieces of clothing at me. "You're going out with me. Now get up, come on - no excuses! You need out of this hole for once."

"Out? What do you mean, out?" I sit up in my bed and glance at the clothes next to me. A flowy red dress, some stockings, and my good boots.

"Hermione Granger invited me out to the pub with her and some friends. I couldn't say no, so you're coming with me!" She picks up the dress and shoves it against my chest.

I laugh a little, "You're kidding me, right? What in your right mind -"

"No excuses, Em! Now get your skinny arse up and put the damn dress on!" she orders.

Much to my dismay, we end up in London at a pub named "Flaming Aces". The place is booming with people, sober and drunk but all obnoxious. Definitely not my scene.

"Come on, let's go and find them." Vi grabs me by the hand and leads me through the crowd of witches and wizards. She spots them by the time we reach the rear of the bar. I glance over her shoulder and my heart practically jumps up and out of my throat. At a table in the far corner sits Hermione Granger, a red-haired wizard who I recognize to be Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Harry Potter. Vi practically has to drag me with her.

"Viola!" calls Hermione from the table.

"Fancy meeting you all here," she says, trying to be funny. They all chuckle at her comment.

She pulls me up to her side, "This is Emma Darrow. My flatmate, and best friend."

I greet Neville first, who is already holding his hand out before Vi can finish introducing me. "Nice to meet you," he says warmly.

Hermione is next, "It's so nice to finally meet you! We've heard so much about you from the Minister."

Ron shakes my hand aggressively, as he takes a big chug of butterbeer.

Then I come to Harry, and some semblance of a smile escapes my lips. "We met earlier, actually," he says, shaking my hand for the second time that day.

Viola laughs beside me, "So I've heard. She was quite embarrassed by it."

I jab her in the side, "Vi!"

"Oh, you shouldn't be. It was entirely my fault, anyway," Harry says to me.

Hermione leans in, smiling. "What do you mean, what happened?"

Harry turns back to me, not sure if I want him to say. I somehow find my words, "Uh, we ran into each other on floor two. Papers went flying, bodies were on the ground. It was a bit of a mess."

Vi orders us two Butterbeers as the waitress passes, and settles into the seat next to Neville. I, of course, am left with the empty seat next to Harry.

Ron sets his glass down on the table in front of him, "Oh, this is the girl you were talking 'bout mate?"

Harry glares at him, "Yes, Ronald." He turns back to me, "I only mentioned to him when I realized who you were. I mean, about your parents..."

The chatter around the table silences at the mention of my parents. The mood turns somber when they realize how it's affected me. Harry turns beet red.

Hermione shatters the silence, heroically changing the subject. "So, Emma, how do you like being Kingsley's little elf? I'm sure he keeps you busy!"

I shrug, "It's quite boring, really. My job is basically to be seen but not heard. Mostly I take down notes for him." This doesn't interest anyone, they merely nod and smile.

"Emma here wanted to be an Auror, before the war," Vi announces.

"Really?!" Harry asks, excitedly from beside me. "What changed your mind?"

"I'm rubbish at defensive magic," I admit to him.

He smiles at me and leans in, "So is Ron, that didn't stop him."

"Oi!" Ron protests. We all laugh.

Our conversation continues rather easily for a while afterward, and I find myself actually having a bit of fun. _Is that allowed?_ I think to myself. We gossip about other Ministry officials, and I find that I have the juiciest tales to tell from behind closed doors. Where I was stiff and tense before, I grow relaxed and comfortable in the seat next to Harry.

The music changes and Vi, having had one too many Butterbeer's, grabs Neville by the hand and pulls him out of his seat.

"Let's dance, Longbottom!" she exclaims.

Hermione follows behind, pulling an unwilling Ron out onto the dance floor.

"I don't dance," I hear Harry say beside me.

"Me either," I reply, "It does look quite embarrassing." We laugh together at the others, and for the second time in one day, I find myself lost in his green eyes.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thank you, thank you for reading! Please do me a favor and review this first chapter. Expect updates weekly, sooner if I have the time. I am trying to keep this as canon as possible, please correct me if you notice anything wrong that I didn't change on purpose!


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